The King of Gryffindor Tower
by rebeldivaluv
Summary: MidOotP. For all those who thought we should have seen Ron's Quidditch game, here is my lackluster offering of it.


**The King of ****Gryffindor****Tower******

Disclaimer:  I don't the Harry Potter franchise, obviously. If I did, it would be the Ronald Weasley franchise instead.

A/N:  For all those who thought we should have gotten to see Ron's Quidditch match, here is my lackluster version of it. Also features tributes to Fred and George (my heroes), lots of Gryffindor Pride, a fair amount of Ginny-worship, a fleeting appearance by the lovely Luna Lovegood, kick-ass McGonagall, Umbridge-dissing, and the inevitable R/H fluff.

It was a perfect day for Quidditch. Ron knew it the moment he opened the curtains around his bed and stared out at the blue, cloudless sky through the window. The queasy feeling in his stomach was back again. It had never quite gone away since that horrible opening match. But for whatever reason—the sunshine streaming in, the lasting exhilaration over Fred and George's infamous departure, the rebellious feeling that had been lodged in all the students ever since—Ron's nervousness was almost overpowered by the ray of hope that came to him.

Resolution gripped him as he began to dress for breakfast. His dorm mates were restlessly stirring, but none of them were awake yet. Ron glanced around at the familiar surroundings. Scarlet and gold on his robes, on his badge. Quidditch players zooming over the posters on their walls, disrupted only by Dean's picture of the West Ham football team. There was a reason he was a Gryffindor, he decided. There was a reason he was a Weasley. And he _would_ win this game.

Ron decided not to wake Harry before slipping down the steps to the common room. He could never have explained this inner sense of conviction even to his best friend. There was no logical reason for it, but Ron had never been, strictly speaking, logical. And that morning, he knew what he had to accomplish. 

An old memory surfaced, an image of himself holding aloft a silver cup. Ron knew the Mirror of Erised didn't tell truth, but only the longings of the heart. Still, he would take what encouragement he could get. The image seemed prophetic, and he had nothing left to lose.

"Ron?"

Ron jumped. It was a sign of how distracted he was that he hadn't noticed her sitting there until she spoke to him. Usually, he could pick out Hermione the moment he entered any room in which she happened to be, but he was almost to the portrait of the Fat Lady before her voice stopped him. He turned around, struggling to hide this sense of purpose from her, as he indifferently replied, "Yeah?"

Hermione stood from her chair by the fire. She was already decked out in full Gryffindor regalia. While in some ways seeing her like that added to the stress of the game, Ron felt a surge of purely personal pride knowing Hermione Granger would be there to cheer him on. 

"Er…would you like some company?" she asked. Ron could tell by the look on her face she was afraid he was going to freeze like he had before his first match.

He shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

Ron held the portrait open for Hermione to pass through first. He saw her shoot him an anxious little look as she passed him, and he gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. It must have worked, because she smiled shyly back at him. 

As they descended the multiple flights of stairs that would lead them to the Great Hall, Ron felt Hermione's hand brush against his several times. They were walking so close their arms kept bumping against each other. Not knowing where his nerve came from, Ron reached over and grabbed her hand. It was like being shot through with a thousand needles. He cursed his rapidly reddening ears, but Hermione only squeezed his hand and let hers remain placidly in his.

It really was shaping up to be his day.

Ron found he could even eat when they got to the Great Hall. Perhaps his normal appetite wasn't back in full force, but he didn't choke on every bite. Even when Harry joined them, and he was forced to sit a bit farther from Hermione than he would have liked, Ron was able to keep up a pretty general optimism. He even let them in a bit on his hope, joking about his ability. 

One by one, his teammates filed in. Angelina Johnson stared anxiously at him from all the way across the table. Ron winked at her, and her jaw dropped. She hastily turned to whisper something to Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell who brightened considerably. Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper shuffled into the noisy, boisterous room looking like they wanted to disappear into the floor. They didn't speak a word to anyone, not even each other. Ron understood how they felt and pitied them but, for once, didn't share their bleak outlook.

Ginny entered the room, and even the sight of her talking to Michael Corner could do little more than mildly irritate him. She managed a weak smile at her brother as she sat down near the trio. Ron smiled back, and the siblings shared a moment of connection the others around them could not fathom. Ginny nodded curtly, Ron did as well, and it was decided. They were going to win.

Ron glanced up at the Head Table, a knot clenching in his stomach as he saw Dolores Umbridge sitting in the chair that had always been occupied by Professor Dumbledore. A sight of the Headmaster at that moment would make up for anything else—even losing the Quidditch Cup. If only they didn't have to look up into that smirking, toad-like face. It might have been his imagination, but Ron could almost swear her satisfied grin widened when she caught his gaze. 

Pulling his eyes away from the disquieting sight, Ron looked over at Professor McGonagall. It seemed she had been watching him for quite some time before he noticed her. With a gesture that was half-pleading, half-encouraging, he saw his Head of House acknowledge him. He knew how important winning the cup was to her. He couldn't disappoint her. Not when she had so little to be pleased about lately. 

Ron's sight drifted next across the room to the Ravenclaw table. He saw Roger Davies, Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, and his resolve weakened a bit. Davies was a seventh year, an excellent Quidditch player, one of the most popular boys in school. He had taken Fleur bloody Delacour to the Yule Ball!  Ron flushed and tried not to think of that disaster. 

His eyes drifted, and he saw another sight which reinforced every last particle of his determination to defeat Ravenclaw or die trying. Marietta Edgecombe was sunk low in her seat next to Cho Chang. No matter how she attempted to hide her face the brilliant purple letters proclaimed SNEAK for the world to see. Ron grinned at Hermione's brilliance. For all her nagging and fussiness, that girl had a wicked streak that was just…awe-inspiring. He returned his attention to his own table and the girl sitting next to him. 

Hermione flushed under his scrutiny, stopping with her spoon halfway to her mouth to look at him. "What?" she asked, discomfited. 

Ron searched his mind for a plausible answer. Harry looked up from his own breakfast to stare at them, and Ron felt his ears start to burn. Great. "Nothing," he mumbled, turning away.

"I know what it is, Hermione!" Seamus Finnigan snickered from a few seats away. "Ron wants another kiss for luck."

Ron's whole face turned scarlet as all those near enough to hear started chuckling at Seamus' joke. Ron noticed even his own little sister joined in. So much for Weasley solidarity. He couldn't look at Hermione. He wanted to kill Seamus. "Sod off," he gritted out to his _former _friend.

"Leave him alone, Seamus."  

Harry's voice made all the laughter stop. The restoration of Seamus and Harry's friendship was itself too recent to take much pressure, and everyone felt it better to leave it be. Seamus must have felt so too, because he instantly turned back to his conversation with Dean. Ron had never been so glad to have Harry as his best mate. 

Deciding breakfast was going to undermine all the confidence with which he had awakened if it continued any longer, Ron pushed his plate aside and rose. He glanced across the table at Harry, still carefully avoiding Hermione's eyes. "Wish me luck."

Harry met his stare grimly. "You'll do fine, Ron."  

Ron could tell Harry was trying to convince himself of that fact, but he appreciated the thought all the same. He marched out of the Great Hall, steadfastly ignoring the Slytherin badges flashed up at him as he passed and doing his best to block out the wretched song they were singing. He had barely turned the corner when he heard footsteps careening after him. He turned around, hoping against hope Hermione had followed him. He was unprepared for who he saw there.

"Luna!"  He barely withheld his laughter at the sight of the small, strange, blonde girl nearly lost under the giant eagle hat. There was also a very small part of him that was sorry she wasn't wearing the lion. "What did you want?"

Luna stared up at him with her dreamy, distant eyes, and he wondered if she had followed him without knowing it. It wasn't out of the question with Loony Lovegood. "Oh, good luck, Ronald," she said eventually, in that vague way of hers.

Ron fidgeted. No one but his mother ever called him Ronald, and she only did that when he was in especially deep trouble. "Er…thanks," he replied, eager to get away from her. He needed to get down to the pitch. "Anyway, I…"  He gestured behind him to indicate his need to leave, but if Luna noticed, she didn't seem to care.

"I'm supporting Ravenclaw, you know," she went on. "I'm a Ravenclaw, so I really believe I should."  Luna paused suddenly, looking up at him with those bulging, bright eyes, as if she expected him to confirm she was doing the right thing.

Ron looked both ways for an escape. "Er, well, right. Of course you would root for your own house."

Luna smiled and nodded vigorously. "That's what I thought. So I'm cheering for Ravenclaw."

"Yeah."  Ron released an exasperated sigh. The longest most pointless conversations of his life were going to be spent with this girl, it seemed. "Look, Luna, I really need to go."

Her eyes widened—something Ron wasn't sure was even possible until then. "Don't you think you should have thought of that before you left your dorm?  You know, there are some charms you can do that free you from having to—"

"Hey, Luna, mind if I talk to Ron for a moment?"  With no further introduction than that, Hermione Granger swooped upon them and dragged Ron out through the front doors of Hogwarts.

Ron barely had time to decipher Luna's cloudy meaning and register Hermione's rather irritated state before he was outside under those promising blue skies. "Thank you!" he exclaimed, before Hermione had a chance to say a single word. "I thought I'd never get away from her."

Hermione looked slightly mollified at Ron's reaction. She gave him a searching look, but what she was looking for, Ron had no idea. "Luna just doesn't understand the way certain things are," she replied cryptically.

"Huh?"  Ron still felt about three steps behind the conversation.

"Never mind."  Hermione waved the subject away. "You have more important things to worry about…not that you need to worry, of course," she rambled on, flushing. "I just meant…well, you know what I meant. I…good luck, Ron."  And standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek, the same way she had before his first match.

Ron felt that numbing sense of wonder overtake him again. It was terrifying and bloody brilliant at the same time. His ears turned pink, but he at least had the satisfaction of watching her change color too. "Thanks, Hermione," he managed, though his voice squeaked unbecomingly. Damn puberty. 

Hermione nodded her head and was turning to the doors when Ron reached out and grabbed her arm. "Hermione, I just want you to know…I'm going to win this game."

She stared up at him for a long time, her brown eyes searching deeply into his expression. Ron found himself straightening to his full height, and the kind of cold focus that came upon him every time he played chess was upon him now. Hermione must have seen it too, because she nodded. "Okay then."

And that was all there was. Hermione went back to the Great Hall to wait for the game to start, and Ron walked the rest of the way to the pitch alone. But he felt something important had been settled with her. What it was, he wasn't really sure, but nothing with Hermione made sense anymore. If it ever had…

~*~

Angelina's pre-game pep talk had been a blur to Ron. He had barely listened as Lee Jordan introduced the teams—though he thought he detected a hint of depression in the announcer's tone. He must still be missing Fred and George. The whole Gryffindor crowd, however, seemed more subdued than usual before a Quidditch match, especially a final. Ron knew why, knew he was a large part of it, and was determined to put an end to it all today.

The captains shook hands, as Gryffindors and Ravenclaws lined up across from each other. Ron grinned as he saw Roger Davies wince from the force of Angelina's grip. Oliver Wood would be proud. Ron zoomed to his goals as fast as he could, a look of keen purpose on his face. Madame Hooch blew her whistle. The game began.

The Keeper never let his eye move from the Quaffle. He imagined it was Malfoy's head. Better yet, it was Umbridge. He was going to clobber it. 

Roger Davies had won the first race for it, due to his longer arms. He swerved away from Angelina's outstretched hands. He dodged past Katie and Alicia. And then, he was coming to the goalposts. Ron panicked. He saw the look of confidence on Roger's face, not a doubt of his ability to get the Quaffle through the hoop. Before Davies had even thrown, Ron had psyched himself out of the grab for it. His self-assurance, that morning so unstoppable, crumbled in an instant. The Quaffle went soaring through the left most hoop.

Ravenclaw scored. 

Ron heard the Slytherin chant beginning and winced. All that cockiness for nothing. He was the same loser he had always been. He would disappoint Gryffindor. He would fail McGonagall. He had lied to Hermione.

His expression drooped as he watched Angelina head straight for the Ravenclaw goal, Quaffle firmly in place. A Bludger went roaring at her, misdirected by Sloper, and caused her to lose control. Ron cursed at the Beater's ineptitude. If only Fred and George were there…

And in that instant, it hit Ron what this year was all about. He watched the game with only half his attention, as the Chasers and Beaters flew back and forth across the field, no one staying in possession for long. The rest of his mind was running over every single thing that had happened this year at Hogwarts. 

From the moment they had arrived, every student and teacher in the place had been tested. They had to decide if they were going to sit down and take it, let Umbridge dictate their lives, let themselves be controlled and bullied, turn a blind eye to what was going on around them, or take a stand. That was what Dumbledore's Army had been. That was what Fred and George had done. That was what the Order of the Phoenix was all about.

Sure, maybe in the grand scheme of things, a Quidditch match wasn't as important as the fight against evil. But if Ron was ever going to amount to anything, if he was ever going to be worthy of that prefect's badge with which Dumbledore had entrusted him, he was going to have to stand up and defy Slytherins, and Malfoy, and people's expectations. He couldn't spend his life sitting idly by while the world went on around him. 

Bradley had made a breakaway with the Quaffle. No Beaters, Chasers, or Bludgers stood between him and the goal posts. Nothing was blocking him, except for Ron. 

_You can do it! _he ordered himself silently. 

Bradley started to veer to Ron's right, but Ron didn't follow. In his mind, the Quidditch pitch had become an enormous three dimensional chess board. This was just a manner of predicting the opponent's moves, knowing how to outmaneuver the enemy. And Ron was the best damn chess player at Hogwarts.

Ron dove left, just as Bradley released the Quaffle in what was supposed to be a surprise attack. For the first time all season, Ron felt the cool leather ball settle directly into his hands. He was so shocked that for a moment he almost dropped it. An enormous roar rose up from the Gryffindor side. The Slytherins were suddenly tensely silent. 

Grinning at the amazed look on Bradley's face, Ron flung the ball as far as he could, directly into the waiting arms of Angelina Johnson. The captain herself seemed almost too dazed to move, but the moment she had the Quaffle in her hands, she sprung into action, doing what she was born to do. Before the Ravenclaws had recovered from their surprise at Ron's save, she had reached their goalposts and tossed the Quaffle through.

"GRYFFINDOR SCORES!!!!" Lee Jordan's amplified voice rose above the crowd.

Ron felt his heart thumping wildly in his chest. The game was on. He looked up to see Ginny and Cho Chang circling the pitch, eyes roving for the Golden Snitch, though he couldn't help noticing Cho seemed a little distracted as she flew. Good. 

Madam Hooch's whistle brought his attention back lower to the halted game. "Blurting, Kirke. Penalty shot for Ravenclaw."

Ron muttered under his breath again at the idiot beaters. Andrew probably hadn't even meant to lock brooms with Davies. He was simply unfit to be on a broomstick in the first place. But Ron could waste no time on pointless anger at his teammates. Roger Davies was lining up for a penalty, and once again, it was all on Ron to stop him.

His breath stuck in his throat, and the entire stadium seemed to stop breathing as well. Dead silence reigned as Roger charged. Roger zigzagged towards the Gryffindor scoring area. Ron went into a double eight loop around the hoops, the wind rushing past him as he forced his Cleansweep to its highest speed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roger's hand reach back. He was aiming directly for the center hoop. Idiot. Ron barreled to the center post and caught the Quaffle a foot from the goal. The scarlet and gold section of the crowd went wild, and the game went on.

After this attempt, Ravenclaw seemed to realize they were going to have to play serious Quidditch after all. The Gryffindor team had developed a new strength, even without their former star players, and it seemed to center in one Ronald Weasley. Johnson, Spinnet, and Bell fell back into their old patterns. They recovered their familiar synchronicity. Ginny was a distant blur as she scoured the field for the elusive Snitch.

But the team still had a weak link. Two of them, in fact. Not all the enthusiasm in the world could hide the fact that Kirke and Sloper were horrible Beaters. Half of Gryffindors scoring opportunities were lost due to their mistakes. Ravenclaw was awarded penalty after penalty, thanks to them. 

Yet somehow, Ron only seemed to grow more impenetrable with each attempt at his goals. For they were _his now, and no one would have access to them without his say so. He would guard them as though Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were lined up behind him with a dozen Death Eaters approaching. He knew how to protect his friends. It was his job. He was simply extending that inborn sense of duty. _

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Lee screamed, all his boundless energy back in full force, as Ron blocked Davies' seventh penalty shot. "WEASLEY EXECUTES A PERFECT STARFISH AND STICK. NO GOAL!   YOU'RE MAKING YOUR BROTHERS PROUD, RON!"

Ron beamed, hearing the compliment from the sky. He watched as Andrew tried to hit a Bludger in Cho's direction. It missed by at least ten yards. Sudden inspiration struck Ron. "Angelina!" he bellowed across the field. "Call a time-out!"

Angelina seemed disposed to make concessions towards her newly inspired Keeper. She signaled to Madam Hooch, and the team gathered around the Gryffindor goalposts. "What's up, Ron?"

"I had a thought. No offense, guys," nodding at Jack and Andrew, "but you're having a bit of trouble with your accuracy. What if, instead of trying to follow the Bludgers, you follow the Chasers instead?"

Angelina frowned her annoyance. Ron knew what she was thinking. The last thing she wanted was the two klutzy beaters in her way. "I don't see how that's a solution, Ron."

"But it is," he continued, his gift for strategy becoming more apparent. "They need to stay with you when you have the Quaffle, so that the Bludgers don't have access to you. The Ravenclaw Beaters are kicking your asses. We've only scored twice, but we would be fifty points up if it weren't for their attacks. You guys are getting slaughtered."  He gestured to Katie's bloody lip and splintered nose. "So if Andrew and Jack flew closer to you—not close enough for their bats to come in contact with you..."  He glowered at the other two men on the team. "But close enough to guard you—they could at least take some of the impact away from the Chasers."

"It's a good plan," Ginny spoke up. She grinned approvingly at her brother. "And who says Hermione has all the brilliant ideas?"

Ron's ears turned red, but he pushed all thoughts of Hermione away. That could wait until after the game.

While Angelina and the other Chasers were deliberating, a noise began to rise from the crowd. Ron groaned as he heard the oh-so-familiar strains of "Weasley is our King."  The Slytherins must have thought they could get under his skin now. They were out of luck, but it didn't make it any more pleasant.

"Bloody Malfoy," he muttered.

Ginny cocked her head for a moment, listening. Then, she smiled again. "No, Ron. It's not. Listen."

Ron did, and his jaw dropped.

_Weasley is our King,_

_Weasley is our King,_

_He never lets the Quaffle in,_

_Weasley is our King…_

Color rose in Ron's face again. He looked down at the Gryffindor stands, where Parvati Patil was leading the rendition, while Lavender Brown glanced smugly at Pansy Parkinson. "M-me?" he stammered. "They're singing to me?"

"Well, don't let it puff you up too much," Angelina growled, as she turned away from Katie and Alicia to face the rest of the team again. "If this plan of yours fails, I'll personally take Jack's bat to your head."

Ron wasn't all that sure she was joking.

Angelina once again signaled Madam Hooch, and the game continued, with Andrew and Jack keeping a close eye on all the Gryffindor Chasers. The effects of this were seen almost immediately in the absence of further Gryffindor fouls. Ron found the pressure was actually off him a bit, as Johnson, Bell, and Spinnet did the kind of Chasing that had made them the best team Hogwarts had seen in many years.  The scoreboard never stopped ringing.

"SPINNET'S GOT THE QUAFFLE!  SHE'S SOARING. OOH, BLUDGER COMING AT HER," Lee yelled, as if everyone in the crowd didn't have eyes to see it anyway. "YES!!!!  SLOPER THROWS HIMSELF IN FRONT OF HER. GONNA LEAVE A NASTY BRUISE, BUT DAMN, IT'S GREAT TO SEE THE BUGGER'S GOOD FOR SOMETHING."  

McGonagall was sitting next to Lee, as always. She didn't bother reprimanding him for language. Indeed, she looked ready to have a heart attack as she surveyed the game. Her entire life force was involved in willing a Gryffindor victory.

"SPINNET'S RAISING HER ARM TO THROW…NO!  SHE'S DROPPED THE QUAFFLE DOWN TO BELL!  KATIE SHOOTS AND SCORES!!!!"

Ron cheered with the rest of his House as the Chasers completed a successful Porskoff Ploy. He hazarded a glance at the scoreboard. Ninety to ten, Gryffindor in the lead. Amazing, but it didn't solve everything. If Cho caught the Snitch, Ravenclaw could still win, and Chang had, after all, been playing much longer than Ginny.

It didn't even occur to Ron that if he hadn't snapped out of his slump, Ravenclaw would be ahead by over a hundred and fifty points, and catching the Snitch wouldn't matter. He never was the mathematician in the group. 

Bradley had grabbed the Quaffle. Andrew and Jack weren't even bothering to follow him. They seemed to realize they would accomplish nothing. Katie sailed up beside him, trying to knock the ball away, but he merely urged himself forward towards the Gryffindor goals. 

Ron tensed, ready to spring into action. Bradley soared high, and Ron noticed Ginny and Cho not far from him. Cho stopped in midair to watch Bradley shoot. Bradley dove suddenly, plunging far below the hoops, and tossing the Quaffle across as he passed, tilting it to the right. Ron lunged, removing both hands from his broom and jumping so far, he was almost convinced he was going to plummet off the Cleansweep. The Quaffle brushed his fingers. Ron stretched his arm to the breaking point. The ball was secure. He swung down below his broom from the force of his velocity but was able to hoist himself back up. The Gryffindors went wild. 

Ron reached back to throw the Quaffle to Alicia, when a sudden flash of red caught his eye. Ginny was flying straight towards Cho Chang, who had not moved since Bradley's shot. Ginny's arm stretched out and wrapped around something small and bright and golden…and fluttering not five feet from Cho's face. 

"YES, VIRGINIA, THERE IS A SANTA CLAUS!!!  GINNY WEASLEY HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH!  GRYFFINDOR WINS!!!!!"

For a moment, Ron could do nothing except stare open-mouthed at his sister. Then, as he saw the rest of the team heading to the ground, he followed suit. He grabbed Ginny in midair, ignoring her screams, and rushed her straight towards the grass on the pitch floor. They toppled to the earth in the midst of their teammates.

Ron could not think. He jumped to his feet, grabbing his baby sister by the waist and flinging her around in the air. "You did it!  You did it!" he cried, never prouder of her than at this moment.

"Ron, put me down!" Ginny giggled. Then, more seriously, "Ron, if you don't put me down this instant, I _will hex you."_

Her request was obeyed immediately. He had been on the wrong side of her Bat-Bogey Hex one time too often. But it didn't matter. She was still grinning up at him, and the team was surrounding them, screaming and crying. Angelina flung her arms around Ron's neck in a way he highly doubted Fred would approve. Katie and Alicia each kissed him, and Ron felt the telltale pink staining his cheeks. He saw Ginny was receiving the same treatment from Jack and Andrew and felt the urge to clobber them, teammates or not. 

But the next instant, he could think of nothing but the silver cup being forced into his hand, as a stream of Gryffindors rushed onto the field, chanting the new and improved version of "Weasley is our King!"  Ron could hardly believe it as Dean and Seamus hoisted him onto their shoulders and were quickly surrounded by a mass of screaming Gryffindors.

For one day, Ronald Weasley was the hero he so longed to be.

He could see Cho landing in the distance. She threw her broom to the ground and ran off crying in vexed frustration. Ron grinned. Served her right. And his baby sister was a bloody sight better than that hosepipe. That was all he had to say. He looked for Ginny in the crowd to tell her so, but she had disappeared. He felt a bit guilty she wasn't up here with him, but nothing could intrude on his happiness at this moment.

The Gryffindors surged out of the stadium, and Ron finally saw Harry and Hermione standing on the edge of the crowd. He heard Harry shout, "YES!" and hollered back to them.

"HARRY!  HERMIONE! WE DID IT! WE WON!"  He waved the Quidditch Cup in the air as proof.

Hermione looked stunned with disbelief, while Harry looked wildly thrilled. They both looked a bit rumpled. Were those twigs in Hermione's hair?  But Ron couldn't focus long enough to decide. The crowd was already carrying him up to Hogwarts. 

Ron hit his head as they pushed through the doors, but even the aching pain he was sure would last at least a week couldn't take away the incredible joy of this day. Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup!  Because of him!  It seemed unreal.

~*~

It still seemed unreal an hour later. Lee Jordan had appeared at the doorway to Gryffindor Tower; no one knew quite how he had gotten there so fast, but he already had the beginnings of the post-game feast ready and waiting for them. He seemed to think Fred and George's absence had left him in charge of everything Umbridge would disapprove of—and a Gryffindor celebration party certainly qualified.

Seamus and Dean finally allowed Ron down, though he had to admit, being held aloft wasn't all that bad. Ron was shoved to the front of the crowd, where Lee waited to greet him as though he were visiting royalty.

Evidently, that was going to be the joke of the evening. "Your Majesty."  Lee made a sweeping bow before him, which made everybody burst out laughing, even Ron, though his face burned. "Your banquet awaits." With that, he beckoned them all into the common room, directing Ron to a scarlet chair positioned before the fire. "Your throne."

Tables were stretched before him, containing the surviving Honeydukes stashes of the last Hogsmeade visit, with no small assistance from the elves in the kitchens. In the back of his mind, Ron knew Hermione would not approve of that. His eyes searched the noisy crowd for some sign of her and Harry, but he couldn't find them. Or Ginny. Some of his enthusiasm started to ebb.

Dean and Seamus got into Lee's game. They ripped down the Gryffindor flag and flung it across Ron's shoulders, snickering. "Your robe, Your Majesty."  

Ron didn't know whether to be furious, embarrassed, or pleased. He was probably a mixture of all three. He remembered when they had done the same for Harry when he was named Champion for the Triwizard Tournament. It was quite a different matter now, but he couldn't help feeling guilty for how jealous he had been then. He shoved the thought aside and searched the crowd. Where were they?

"Ah, the fair Queen arrives," Lee announced for all to hear. Ron wondered if he still had his voice amplified. 

But he forgot about that in a fit of laughter, as half of Gryffindor Tower made a show of bowing before Ginny as she entered. Dean Thomas even grabbed the Quidditch Cup from Ron and dropped it upside down on her head as a crown. 

Ginny didn't appear embarrassed by the attention as Ron was. She had always been more of a ham, ala Fred and George. She bowed regally to the other students, affecting a haughty demeanor, though everyone could see she was on the verge of laughing. "Thank you. Thank you, my noble subjects."  She lifted her hands in a gesture for silence and then grabbed a butterbeer from off one of the tables. "I call for a toast."

There was a rush as every student armed themselves with some sort of refreshment. Ron grabbed a bottle along with the rest and waited for his sister to speak. Making the most of her situation, Ginny waited for absolute silence before she began. "Our victory today is for the honor of two of our number, missing now, though not fallen. They were taken from us far too soon, but their fight lives on. To Fred and George!"  She lifted her bottled, then stopped, grinning. "Or, as they would say, eat dung, Umbridge!"

"Eat dung, Umbridge!" was intoned solemnly from every Gryffindor in the Tower, before glasses were drained all around. Ron grinned. Only Ginny would think of such a thing.

Everyone felt the duties of the day had been paid, and there was an outburst of noise such as even Gryffindor Tower had rarely seen. Seamus had actually ordered a Deflagration Deluxe crate of Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs which he let off to general approval. Colin and Dennis Creevey and several other younger students gathered around to hear Ron tell his story about the game, and he was more than ready to oblige them. 

Ron finally saw Harry and Hermione force their way through the crowded room to sit near him and Ginny. They listened as attentively to his story as any of the kids, and he was surprised. Usually, Hermione lectured him about his overblown stories, but she seemed to be hanging on his every word. In fact, both she and Harry acted as though they hadn't seen the game merely minutes before. Odd.

He was just about to describe his idea for the Beaters when the door to Gryffindor Tower was thrown open, and Professor McGonagall marched in. Everyone quieted immediately—though the room still rocked with the Catherine wheels flying about—as they were apt to do when their Head of House entered the common room. She usually only did so when their parties extended too late into the night to be endured. But it was barely seven o'clock now.

Minerva McGonagall cleared her throat. "I have two important pieces of information to pass on to you students," she said, looking around at them all with an attempt at her accustomed severity. "First of all, the password to Gryffindor Tower has been changed. Normally, such changes require the approval of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, but as he is not here, I took it upon myself to make the correction."

Ron grinned. He understood already what McGonagall was saying, and he could tell from their smiles that Harry and Hermione did too. She had changed the password without telling Umbridge, therefore, Umbridge would not have access to the tower—at least for tonight. There was no way she could put a stop to their fun this time. 

"What's the password?" Neville asked, frowning. He looked highly distressed at not being able to use his pet plant's name anymore. He was the only one.

This time, Ron knew he didn't imagine the smile on the Transfiguration teacher's face. "Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes."

A roar of approval greeted her words. Lee Jordan started a chant of "Mc-Gon-a-gall" that quickly compassed the whole of the room. McGonagall's cheeks flushed with rare pleasure, but she hushed the crowd eventually.

"There is one other matter."  She stepped across the room to face Ginny. "Miss Weasley, I believe you have something of mine."

Ginny smiled sheepishly from under her makeshift crown. She immediately removed it and handed it to the Deputy Headmistress. "Here you go, Professor."

McGonagall cradled the Quidditch Cup so lovingly that it was all Ron could do to not laugh out loud. "Thank you, Miss Weasley," she sniffed. "And you, too, Mr. Weasley, Miss Johnson."  She nodded to Ron and Angelina. "I award two hundred points to Gryffindor for your most excellent performances today."

The whole tower cheered. They knew the points would be gone within a week, thanks to Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad, but for tonight, it didn't matter. Tonight, they were all going to pretend things were all right at Hogwarts. Their school had stood strong for four hundred years. It had survived the split amongst the Founders. It had outlasted the Dark Lords Grindewald and Voldemort. It could certainly withstand Dolores Umbridge.

McGonagall stayed and celebrated with her House for quite a while after that. Ron found he had lost half his audience, but it didn't really bother him. Nothing could tonight. Hermione was talking with Professor McGonagall, her face glowing, while Harry kept a close watch out the window facing the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid's cabin. Ron shrugged it off. Harry was often pensive lately, and perhaps he regretted not getting to play. Ron could certainly understand that. Even finally getting his chance to shine didn't take away Ron's resentment at Umbridge's unfair punishment of Harry and his brothers. She was such a…well, a word his mother and Hermione definitely did not approve.

There was a tapping noise on the window, and Harry opened it to let an owl come flying in. It soared right above Ron's head and let a shining golden envelope fall into his lap. Bewildered, Ron turned it over, then grinned. "Hey, Ginny!  It's for both of us, from Fred and George."

"Really?"  Ginny careened across the room towards him. "Well, don't just look at it!  Open it, you idiot."

Ron obeyed, while giving his sibling a well deserved scowl. The moment the seal was broken the envelope soared out of his hands. 

"CONGRATULATIONS, GINNY!" came Fred and George's well known voices, magically amplified. It was like a Howler, only not angry, and brilliant sparkling lights were issuing forth from the envelope, blending with the fireworks.

"YEAH, WE KNEW YOU'D DO US PROUD," George went on.

"YOU ALWAYS WERE THE BEST OF THE REST," Fred agreed. "OH, AND RON…"

Ron felt his ears turning scarlet. He knew they were going to say something embarrassing. It was inevitable.

"ABOUT THAT WHOLE PREFECT THING…" continued George.

"WE MAY FORGIVE YOU YET!"

Everyone laughed, Lee Jordan confessed owling them express immediately after the game, and Ron let out a sigh of relief. As far as his brothers went, that wasn't all that bad. In fact, it was downright nice. He grinned. At that moment, he wouldn't have traded being a Weasley for all the galleons in Gringotts.

~*~

The celebration lasted into the early hours of the morning. The best moment, by far, was when Umbridge had attempted to enter the tower, no doubt to put a stop to all their festivities. Lee had signaled for silence, and everyone leaned forward to listen.

"Excuse me, but would you please let me in?" they heard her say to the Fat Lady in her sweetest voice.

"Password," the portrait returned indifferently.

"I'm the Headmistress!" Umbridge whined, though she tried to sound authoritative. "I don't need to use a password."

"You are not the Headmistress of Hogwarts," the Fat Lady sniffed disdainfully. "Albus Dumbledore is Headmaster here. You are nothing but a toad-faced usurper."

The Gryffindors cheered so loudly they knew Umbridge could hear them. They didn't care.

"That's enough of that!" Umbridge declared. "_Mimbulus_ mimbletonia_!"_

There was no response, except muffled laughter from inside the tower.

"Did you hear what I said?" 

"Oh yes," the Fat Lady responded, yawning. "I never cared much for those plants myself. Rather sticky and not pretty at all."

"But…but _Mimbulus__ mimbletonia is the password," Umbridge stammered. _

Ron snorted. He had never heard the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts sound at such a loss before.

"Obviously, it is not. If it were, I would open the door for you, wouldn't I?"

"But...All right, children, that's enough," Umbridge directed her speech to the students she knew were listening behind the door. "You have had your fun. Now, open this door this instant."  

No one answered her.

Dolores was reduced to bribery. "The student who opens this door will be spared punishment. In fact, they will earn themselves a place on the Inquisitorial Squad."

Lee turned around to face his classmates, and with the air of a maestro conducting a symphony, summoned them all to scream, "Eat dung, Umbridge!" 

As one, the Gryffindors turned their backs on Umbridge's indignant cries and left her there to scream herself hoarse.

~*~

But by three o'clock, even the most determined merrymakers—Lee, Dean, and Seamus—had drifted off to their beds to sleep away the few short hours before the sun arose. Ron was not really surprised that Harry had been among the earliest to leave. He grew more closed off by the day, and he had been surprisingly quiet all night long. Hermione had not stayed long after him; she too was strangely subdued. Angelina, Alicia, and Katie left the party around midnight, though Ron imagined they were going to continue to discuss the game throughout the night. Ginny had staggered off to bed around two, drunk with fatigue and excitement, blissfully happy in her accomplishment. 

Now, only Ron remained by the light of the still rioting fireworks. A few had escaped to the dorms, McGonagall had put out the more rowdy of the bunch, and the ones that still twirled about the common room were content to cast a rainbow of colors along the walls. 

Ron would have liked to use the display as the excuse for his sleeplessness, but he could not. Something ate at him. This day should have been absolutely perfect—and it was—only…only there was something missing. It was the inability to put a name to this missing component that kept Ron staring listlessly around the messy room, as if he would find what he was looking for amongst the empty candy wrappers and butterbeer bottles.

Whatever it was, it remained elusive.

He heard footsteps descending the stairs from the girls' dormitory, and he sat straighter in her chair. It was almost frightening how well he could distinguish her walk from any other person's. "Hey, Hermione," he called out, before she had even reached the bottom step. 

Hermione slowed her pace now but came into the common room, stopping before his "throne."  She was wearing only her dressing gown over her nightgown, and he felt himself blushing a bit. What was the matter with him?  Ron never used to notice things like that, or if he had, they never disturbed him. But now, he longed to touch the dark-blue cotton robe that engulfed her. Her bushy hair was even more unruly than usual, and he loved each and every twisted curl. He would never have wanted her to have elegant silk nightclothes or shimmering, glossy hair. She wouldn't be Hermione that way. Not _his _Hermione, at any rate.

"Hey, Ron," she said easily. "I just came down to leave out a few hats for the elves."  She held up a wad of fabric in her hand. "Why are you still up?"

"Couldn't sleep."  Ron shrugged, watching her place the clothes on the hearthstone. He wondered if he should tell her what Harry had told him about Dobby, but opted against it. It wouldn't earn him any thanks.

"No wonder, with all this racket," she sniffed, but Ron thought she smiled a bit as she stared around at the fireworks. Fred and George had redeemed themselves in her eyes the moment they had declared war on Umbridge. They didn't fight with the same tactics Hermione did, but they struggled on the same side. "Seamus really should have thought before he set off these in Gryffindor Tower. You know, we're the ones who are going to be responsible for getting rid of them tomorrow."  She sighed.

"It's all right, Hermione. I'll take care of it," Ron offered. He didn't know why he did. She just looked so care-worn lately, and he wanted to reduce her burden any way he could.

"That's not fair, Ron," she protested. "I'm not going to leave the whole thing on you."

"It's nothing. I'll order a couple house-elves to do it."  He grinned.

Hermione rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips. "You only say things like that to irritate me, don't you?"

Ron winked up at her. "It works, doesn't it?"

"Generally," she admitted wryly, before doing something completely unexpected. She sank down at the ground by his feet and laid her head against his knee.

For a moment, Ron couldn't breathe at the contact. Then, his eyes became enamored with watching the way the different lights of the fireworks played with the color of her hair. Quite without knowing what he did, his hand reached out to start stroking out her curls. He wrapped them around his fingers, played with them. Their texture was soft, and she smelled faintly of cinnamon. Hermione didn't even seem to mind what he was doing. She sighed softly and relaxed against him.

"Hey, Ron?" she said, after what seemed like a long time of silence.

"Yeah?"  He wondered why his voice sounded so odd and strangled.

Hermione turned to look up at him, her brown eyes surprisingly serious as she laid her hands on his knee where her head had been. "I'm glad you won."

Ron was surprised. He had somehow expected more. He wasn't sure what, just…more. "I know that, Hermione."

She shook her head. "I wasn't through yet. I'm glad you won, but I wouldn't have cared if you lost."

Ron immediately tensed, his fists clenching against the soft material of the chair arms. "Gee, thanks, Hermione. Nice to know you care."

"Would you be quiet for one minute and let me finish?" she snapped. "I'm trying to tell you something here. All those people who were down here tonight, praising you to the sky…if you had lost, they wouldn't have still been here. They'd have said they were sorry maybe, but that would be about it. But I just wanted you to know that, win or lose, I'm always going to be right here."

All Ron's anger melted away instantaneously. He couldn't find words to match hers. "I…thanks, Hermione. That means a lot."

Hermione nodded, before slowly rising to her feet. "Well, I should go to bed, or the elves will never come."

Ron stood as well, towering almost a foot over her. He grabbed her wrist. "Hermione, wait."  He stopped her exit for a second time that day.

"Yes, Ron?"  

Trusting brown eyes looked up at him, and whatever Ron was going to say disappeared. Releasing her hand, he reached up to cup her face with his big, clumsy hands. She didn't pull away. Not even when he lowered his head to place his mouth ever so gently against hers. In fact, he felt Hermione's lips brush against his, and her arms rise to linger on his chest. 

His mind was spinning out of control, but the world seemed to stand still. Even the sound of the fireworks crackling couldn't break into this moment with the two of them, holding onto each other the way they were always meant to. The kiss was gentle and tender, like a promise of things to come…later, when the world made sense again, after Harry was safe, and Dumbledore was back, and they had time to just be _them_.

For now, they had this one moment.

They broke apart slowly, after a long time. Hermione released a small sigh, her eyes lingering closed. She pressed her face against Ron's chest, and his hands reached again for her hair. 

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron?"  Her words were muffled. She didn't move from her place in his arms.

"This is the best day of my life."

Hermione looked up then, grinning. "Yeah, I knew that. You were King of Gryffindor Tower."

Frowning slightly, Ron shook his head. "No. What I mean is, even if I had lost, this would have been the best day of my life."

"Oh."  Hermione blushed up to the roots of her hair, which took some of Ron's focus off his own burning ears. "Well…I'd better go. Night, Ron."  

"Night, Hermione."

She reluctantly disentangled herself from him and headed towards the stairs to the girls' dormitory, not without several backward glances. Ron half wanted to follow her and cursed the Founders for not allowing boys up there…though he wasn't sure exactly what he would have done if he'd gotten the chance.

Hermione stopped at the bottom of the stairs and faced him one last time. "Oh, and Ron…it was mine, too."  Still blushing, she climbed the steps and disappeared.

Ron watched her go and then sank back into his throne, "Weasley is our King" echoing inside his brain.

FIN.


End file.
